


It's Van Horn, Not Constantinople

by Elementhyde



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Protective Arthur Morgan, Self-Insert, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, arthur morgan/female reader - Freeform, guardian angel arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 10:28:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18333989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elementhyde/pseuds/Elementhyde
Summary: Reader reminiscence about Arthur helps f!reader out of a sticky situation, and reader finds herself drawn to Arthur and the Van Der Linde gang. Pulling from my collection on Tumblr





	It's Van Horn, Not Constantinople

You’d joined the gang a little over a year ago, it had been a rough couple years since your husband had died. The happiness had all but gone from your life, you had turned to picking pockets to survive. You hated yourself, but you knew that if you were going to survive it meant doing what was necessary. You had made a home for yourself just outside of Van Horn, it was easier to swindle the patrons of the saloon there, and the lack of law enforcement was nice too, but it also meant dealing with some pretty rough men.

You had talked yourself out of more failed attempts than you wanted to admit, sometimes that meant playing the drunken harlot, other times the sweet innocent, but you were good at de-escalating most situations, but this man was determined to make an example of you. You looked to the bartender for help as he grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully, you sucked in through your teeth as his grip tightened.

“You think because you have a pretty face you can steal from me, woman?” The threat in his voice was real. He pulled you away from the bar, his grip on your wrist tightening as you pulled against him.

“I swear I wasn’t trying to steal from you sir!” Your voice innocent and on the verge of tears, “I was just trying to get by!” In the crowded bar that was as good a lie as any. He eyed you, watching as tears welled in your eyes, his eyes hardened.

“You’re bullshittin’ no one ma'am, and you’re gonna learn there are consequences for your actions. I don’t rightly care if you ARE a woman.”

It had been a long time since you found yourself unable to talk your way out of a situation, and this man reeked of liquor, which didn’t bode well for getting him to see reason.

“Why not just let her go, friend. You’re scarin’ the poor girl.” The voice was low and gruff, you turned to see the man. He was much bigger than the drunken man, broad and intimidating, hands hooked into his gun belt, he looked perfectly at ease. His face stern, he glanced over to you before returning his gaze to the man.

“Mind your own fucking business, mister! This lady needs to be taught you can’t steal from me!”

The new man shifted his weight, “I’m not gonna repeat myself sir, let the lady go or you and me gonna have a problem.”

“That so?” His grip slacked on your wrist and you pulled hard to get away, breaking free you ran towards the back of the bar.

You heard the hammer click on the revolver, “Stop right there missy…"you froze, too scared to turn around. Never had someone pointed a gun at you and you weren’t taking any more chances to provoke the man.

“Now, that was just not smart.” You heard the first punch land, still daring not to turn around, the sound of a body hitting the floor. You ran as the sound of the fight grew, sliding out the door in the rear.  
_Why had he come to your rescue?_ You thought to yourself as you mounted up and raced out of town.

The front door of the saloon kicked open as your rode past, your savior glanced at you as you past. A low whistle and you hear the pounding of hooves coming straight at you, turning to see the biggest paint horse you’ve ever seen barreling towards the man down the main road. As if on instinct the horse turned face and the man mounted up, chasing after you.

“Ma'am, hold up!” you knew your horse wasn’t going to outrun him, but you needed to get out of town, so you let him chase you.

“C'mon ma'am, stop!” His voice had no shred of anger, but there was a him of frustration as you led him out of town. You eased up as you left Van Horn behind you, the man quickly caught up.

“Did you not hear me callin’ out?” His voice full of frustration, but his face showed concern.

“No, I heard you, but it’s not like I’m going to stop for a stranger, and I’m definitely not going to stop in the middle of a town where I was just accused of stealing.” You look at the man, directing your horse off the path and into a clearing before pulling up to a stop and turning to face the man.

“I didn’t mean to step in, but you seemed as if you could use some help. How much did you get off him anyhow?” A small smirk teasing the edges of his mouth.

So, he wasn’t just a good samaritan, he knew what you were doing, you smiled, “Not enough for the hassle…”

“You know, it’s easier if you have a spot, but your technique is pretty good. You got a place you’re stayin’?” He leaned heavily on the grip of his saddle, a perfect image of ease, his eyes studying you.

“I don’t much like company…” you lied, it had been so much harder alone than you wanted to admit. You looked back at him, he was impossibly handsome. You felt your chest tighten as you stared, his eyes meeting yours and felt yourself melting from his gaze.

“Well, if you change your mind. I might have a place for you, we could use a good pickpocket, and we look our for our own.” He straightened up, turning his horse, he called over his shoulder. “If ya change your mind, send mail to Tacitus Kilgore, it ain’t my name…but it’ll get to me.”

Your eyes lingered as he rode off. A feeling you long thought dead within you stirred, you hadn’t felt this since your husband passed.

 _Stop being silly, you can’t fall for every man who shows you kindness._ Had it really been that long since you had someone show you genuine kindness? You realized just how crushingly lonely it had been, you pushed the thought from your head.

“Let’s go boy, time to go home.”

Van Horn would be too hot for a couple days, and you were dangerously low on funds, you weren’t going to be able to pay for your room unless you brought in some cash and fast. It had been a couple days, but you couldn’t get that man out of your head, each time your chest tightened. What had he said, send mail to  _Tacitus…Kilgore_  if wanted to join up with whatever he was doing? Maybe you’d stop by the post office later, at least check out what he was up to, your curiosity had gotten the best of you…among other things.

The reply was three words, but you knew what he meant. “Parlour House, Rhodes”

Three days later you found yourself walking into the saloon, a vast improvement over the saloon in Van Horn, you could admit, the eyes of the men turned to you as you entered. You kept your gaze trained ahead, you weren’t interested in starting up any friendly conversation, a low whistle rang out in the saloon, clearly directed at you.

“Now, that ain’t how you behave around a lady, is it mister?” The familiar gruff voice came from somewhere overhead. You look up, he gives you a slight nod, turning his attention back to the cat-caller. “Apologize before I make you…” his voice cheerful enough, but the threat was there. Your heart pounded in your chest.  _You are not some schoolgirl, get it under control y/n!_

The man by the bar turned toward you, “S-sorry ma'am, didn’t realize you was taken.” You laughed lightly.

“I ain’t taken sir, and I think you can manage a better apology than that.” Your voice flat as his face contorted into frustration, how dare a woman talk to him like that.

Heavy footsteps descended the stairs, “I reckon I agree with the lady, wasn’t much of an apology.” You felt his presence as he stepped behind you to look at the man. Your heart fluttered again as you felt the warmth of his body on your back.

The man at the bar’s eyes shifted back to the gentleman behind you. Eyeing him up and down, his body shrinking as he realized his chances.

“I do apologize ma'am, I was out of line. You have yourself a nice day.” He turned on his heels towards to door in the back of the saloon.

“That’s twice now miss, what is it about you that draws trouble.” His voice was low and teasing, you turned to look at him.

“Guess it’s my charming personality.” Your eyes train upward, he was big, so much bigger than he looked in Van Horn.

His hands again hooked in his belt, his body utterly relaxed. You wish you could be relaxed, but you felt even more tense with him this close.

Your mind thinking about how he must know what you were thinking, he had to know what he was doing to you, it must be written all over your face. It had been a long time, and you wished more than anything to explore his broad shoulders and chest.

“Tired of running alone?” That smirk, another pang through your chest.

“You brought up a good point, it’s easier with another set of eyes.” You forcibly relaxed yourself, leaning back against the bar, pushing out your chest in an attempt to turn the tables.

His eyes never leaving your face, “Arthur.” He held out his hand, pulling yourself back to full height you take his hand.

“Y/n, so what is this exactly?”

“There is a group of us, we’ve run together for a bit, but we pull odd jobs here and there. We look out for each other, everyone contributes…” he continued to look at you, attempting to read your reaction.

“Well…Arthur? That sounds mighty fine to me.” Your heart beat hard in your chest, if you were really going to join a gang you were really going to have to get this under control.

That had been nearly a year ago, and to say you had gotten better around Arthur would be a lie. If anything the man had engulfed your every fiber, he was gentle, fair, strong, and not too hard on the eyes. How any of these other women managed you didn’t know, but how could you even ask anyone? Every touch sent lightning throughout your body, every compliment had you melting, you did any thing you could to work with him. He was an obsession, but he seemingly wouldn’t give you the time of day. Professional to a fault, he still called you by your last name. Each time he brushed off your advances you died a little inside. Why couldn’t you just forget him, move on?

The man was your own personal brand, you couldn’t imagine him not in your life…so you suffered. In your mind it was worth it, he may never love you like you love him. But a day without him in it seemed impossible, and then rest of the gang had become like family. So you suffered, silently, wishing you could just tell him how you feel.


End file.
